


Two Truths and a Lie

by CallistoNicol



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - Fandom
Genre: F/M, and it's understood Thor is getting the throne, but Loki's got better fish to fry, locked in a cell, set before Thor, thanks to well meaning friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoNicol/pseuds/CallistoNicol
Summary: Or, when you’re playing with Loki, Sixteen Lies and Maybe a Nugget of Truth Buried Underneath a Steaming Pile of Excrement (numbers open to interpretation).





	Two Truths and a Lie

Lady Sif and Loki sat side by side in an Asgardian dungeon cell, shoulders brushing against each other.

 

“How did we end up here?” Loki asked.

 

Sif raised an eyebrow at her companion. “I was unaware you had brain damage or memory loss.”

 

Loki gave her a flat look. “I’m merely making conversation, Sif. Of course I know how we got here.”

 

The Nine Realms had been peaceful lately. Too peaceful. The kind of peaceful that resulted in the Warriors Three being bored and pressuring the All-Mother to craft a scavenger hunt for them. Naturally, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun weren’t enough competition, so they invited Thor, Sif, and Loki to join them. Fandral insisted on being with Volstagg, then spouted some hogwash about Thor wanting to spend quality time with Hogun, leaving Sif with Loki. Not that she’d complained; she took any opportunity to be alone with him, especially when someone else set it up.

 

There were 100 items to be scavenged (Fandral’s words). While Sif was naturally competitive, she didn’t hold a candle to Loki’s ferocity where Thor was involved, so it was a foregone conclusion that they were going to move as fast as they could (and possibly cut a few corners) in order beat the others. 

 

From the throne room to Midgard to Heimdall’s Bifrost Bridge, Sif and Loki travelled quickly, collecting the odd bits Frigga had told them to get. When it came time to take a picture by Lorelei’s cell, they hadn’t questioned it and rushed to the Dungeons. 

 

They bribed the Einherjar to let them in. Fandral and Volstagg were there already, posing with a scowling Lorelei in the background. Loki decided any old cell would do, and so selected an empty cell with no prisoners on either side or across from it. He levitated the camera and commanded Sif on how best to smile, which irritated her, so they started bickering and failed to notice the two Warriors Three sneak up on them. Mid-comment about how Loki couldn’t offer a genuine smile if it meant he got to claim the throne from Thor, the cell wall dissipated and Fandral and Volstagg shoved Loki and Sif inside. The wall reappeared before they were done falling. Outside the cell stood Fandral and Volstagg, looking inordinately pleased with themselves. 

 

Sif, in the heat of her argument with Loki, had temporarily forgotten that her friends thought she was sweet on Loki, and this was their misguided attempt to get them together. The fact that they were correct about her feelings only made it that much worse, for she was fairly certain Loki would rather kiss Thor’s feet than look at her with a romantic bent. 

 

“Have fun, you two,” Fandral cooed, blowing them a kiss. 

 

“We’ll let you out when you’ve worked things through,” Volstagg said, sporting an infuriating smile. 

 

Loki, unaware of their true reasoning, raged against them, spewing threats and shouting promises of shriveled manhood, weeks of agony, and a general fear of dark corners should they refuse to let them out.

 

In any other location, he would have made good on his threats immediately, but the brilliance of the Asgardian dungeons meant it prevented powers from working outside the cell, leaving Loki and Sif with no way of attacking their friends. 

 

Former friends, that is. And dead friends, if Sif ever made it out of here. 

 

Sixteen hours later, Loki and Sif had tried everything they could think of, but found no way to escape their cell. Now, sitting side by side, they had a lot of time to fill. 

 

“Should we ever get out, I know for a fact Hildegund will help us in our retaliation against Volstagg,” Sif said. “And Fandral is terrified of little girls.”

 

“Little girls? Really?”

 

Sif shrugged. “It’s irrational, but true.”

 

Loki stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I can work with that,” he murmured, eyes glinting with the revenge he was planning.

 

Of course, they had to escape first.

 

“Do you think they will feed us?” Loki asked. 

 

Fair question. Fandral wasn’t exactly known for being responsible, and Volstagg was probably too gleeful over his success to remember something as basic as food. And given how the Einherjar hadn’t come running after all the ruckus they’d made, Sif knew whose side they were on.

 

“Do you think Thor knows of this?” she asked. 

 

Loki eyed her disdainfully. “Of course you’d think of him,” he said sourly. 

 

She gave him an irritated glance. “Because he’s my friend.”

 

“So is Hogun, and yet you fail to mention him.”

 

“That’s because I know he’s not involved.”

 

“And how in the Nine Realms would you know that?”

 

“If he was, Fandral wouldn’t have needed Thor to distract him. So again, I wonder, was Thor involved? Or is he just a convenient means of keeping Hogun occupied?”

 

Loki made a disinterested noise, twitching his fingers dismissively. “It matters not,” he said. “It’s Fandral and Volstagg on whom I plan to exact my revenge.”

 

Sif sighed. And this was why she was irritated with her friends; Loki had not the slightest interest in her. Locking them together in this cell would accomplish nothing, because Loki would rather plot ways to make her friends pay than take advantage of being alone with her. 

 

Any other man in Asgard would have at least tried to take advantage of being alone with her. She couldn’t help but feel slightly insulted. 

 

Twenty hours in, Loki snapped. “I cannot stand sitting here in boredom!” he shouted, standing up and throwing himself at the wall. It crackled and shot him back. Loki grabbed his shoulder where he had made contact, but otherwise gave no indication that he’d been injured. “Someone let us out!” he roared, but silence was his only answer. 

 

Whirling on her, Loki pointed an accusatory finger. “Tell me you find this as insufferable as I do.”

 

She was beginning to. With a glare of her own, Sif said, “I didn’t realize being trapped with me was the worst thing that could happen to you.”

 

“Of course it is,” he said heatedly. “You would--” but he cut himself off from saying anything else, leaving Sif to wonder what is was he thought she would do. Once again, she regretted her attraction to him. 

 

What was it about the Odinson boys that they found so repulsive about her? At varying times, she’d fancied both of them, but could never get either to notice her, let alone reciprocate. Sif thought she had a better chance of having Jotun blood coursing through her veins than getting either of the princes to look at her twice.

 

If she ever got out of here, she was going to request a long-term assignment somewhere far, far away from Asgard. 

 

Loki stomped back to her side and threw himself down, jutting out his lower lip. Sif hated how cute she found it. “How long until someone realizes we’re missing?”

 

“They already know,” she said, trying not to stare at his mouth. 

 

“Then why are we still in here?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I never thought you particularly daft.”

 

He gave her the stink eye. “Then enlighten me, o great lady,” he said dryly. 

 

“Fandral and Volstagg locked us in a cell. Together.”

 

“Yes, I got that part.”

 

“Together, Loki.  _ You  _ and  _ me. _ ”

 

He still looked at her blankly. Sif sighed; if he wasn’t smart enough to put two and two together, she wasn’t going to enlighten him. It was already humiliating enough. 

 

There was only one way to deal with Loki that she’d ever found effective: redirect him. When his attention was focused elsewhere, he usually dropped whatever unsavory topic he had his teeth in. “What say we play a game?” she suggested.

 

It worked like a charm. “A game?” he said, suddenly looking like a predator on the prowl. 

 

“Yes, that is what I just said.”

 

“You want to play a game? With me? Why Sif, I didn’t know you were so interested in losing.”

 

Clearly she was, or she’d have found a more attainable goal for her affections. “We have to pass the time some way, and I don’t really want to watch you keep whining,” she said evenly.

 

Loki clutched his heart in mock offense. “And here I thought watching me whine was the highlight of your day.”

 

Unfortunately, it was. She’d watch him do anything. But right now she needed a distraction as much as he did, albeit for different reasons. 

 

“Fine. Suggest a game, Lady Sif.”

 

She blurted out the first game that came to mind-- “Two truths and a lie--” and immediately winced. A lying game with the god of mischief? Was she insane? At least Loki was nodding his head speculatively, long elegant fingers tapping his chin. Sif had to tear her gaze away from his hands; she’d forgotten how enticing they were. 

 

“You first, my lady,” Loki said.

 

“What, no ground rules?”

 

“Do we need them?”

 

“Every time you engage with Thor, you list so many rules the rest of us have lost interest before we even start.”

 

Loki grinned at her. “I learned after a decade or so that Thor needs guidelines or else his little mind wanders off. Rules keep him in line.”

 

Sif rolled her eyes. “Incorrect. You like rules because it gives you hard and fast guidelines to work around. Hogun won’t play with us anymore because he hates arguing with you over the minutiae.”

 

“But that’s half the fun,” Loki said, eyes glittering. 

 

In another realm where he wasn’t prince, Loki would have made a great lawyer. He would be completely insufferable and terrible at dinner parties--much like now, actually. Sif smirked to herself. 

 

“Now what are you thinking?” Loki asked. “Because that is not the look of Sif inventing her truths.”

 

Sif narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t supposed to invent truths.”

 

Loki once again twitched his fingers dismissively. “I’ve always found truth to be determined by one’s point of view.” He grinned at her long-suffering sigh. “You and your little friends do, too. It’s why your battle retellings are worth listening to.” Well. He had a point. She nodded in acquiescence, and he smiled. “Now, my dear Sif, are you going to give me two truths or not?”

 

“I I let you win in our last duel. I let Thor win in our last duel. And I let Hogun win in our last duel.”

 

“That one’s easy,” Loki said, triumphant smile sliding onto his face. “You’ve never let Thor win in a duel.”

 

He knew her well. “Correct,” she said.

 

Loki’s brow went up with a bit of pride, then promptly dropped down into a scowl. He scooted a few inches away from her. “No--you didn’t let me win our last duel. I won it truly!”

 

Sif didn’t bother pretending to hide her own triumphant expression. “Did you now?” she said lightly. 

 

“Wretched creature,” Loki said, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. “I daresay your association with me is doing you some good.” Sif made a noncommittal noise, and Loki laughed. “I shall take great care to not have a repeat. Tell me, why would you throw a duel?”

 

“Fascinating question,” Sif said with a twitch of her lips to indicate she wasn’t going to answer. The truth was Loki had had a run-in with Odin on top of a run-in with Thor on top of a run-in with Frigga. Sif had accidentally been present for all three incidents, and since her traitorous heart wanted Loki to be happy all the time, she’d done him a bit of a favor, though she’d made sure to be subtle about it. He’d gloated about that win for three solid weeks, which really meant he sought her out regularly to rub it in her face. That had been an unintended consequence, but so pleasant she almost considered throwing all her duels if it meant she saw him more often. 

 

She wouldn’t, of course. Her pride wouldn’t let her. But it had been enjoyable to consider it.

 

“And Hogun?” Loki demanded. 

 

Sif shrugged. “I owed him one. And there was a lady involved.”

 

“Ah,” Loki said. “The men of our acquaintance do let their baser instincts have too much control.”

 

Comments like that made Sif wonder if Loki had ever had romantic entanglements. If he did, he certainly didn’t boast about it. She couldn’t tell if he kept quiet because he’d never made a conquest, or if this was the one thing in his life he chose to be respectful about. He usually spoke of everything in life with a tone of mocking, but he spoke of his mother with a quiet reverence, and it was said how a man treated his mother was a good indication of how he treated his lovers. 

 

But he was so damn sarcastic the rest of the time, Sif wasn’t quite sure. And since she didn’t feel she could ask without first confessing her feelings, she wouldn’t ever know. 

 

“Your turn,” she said. 

 

He shifted so he was lying on the floor, propped up by one elbow. He pondered for a moment before speaking. “I used to think you were my sister. I find Thor to be a fine specimen of manhood. I believe in equality for all.”

 

She stared at him. Obviously the lie was thinking Thor was a fine specimen of manhood--Loki would cut off his own manhood before ever saying such a thing--except that she’d heard Loki pontificate more than once about the inequality of life and how it made him superior, and everyone else should simply grovel and accept it. So either he secretly did admire his brother, or he hid his desire for equality under a sheet of lies. 

 

To be fair, he hid everything under a sheet of lies. 

 

Not once had he called her a sister, but out of the three, that was the only one that rang true. And if it were true, he had said it past tense…? Any chance he now thought of her as nothing like a sister and was only waiting for her approval before kissing her? 

 

Dangerous thoughts, these. They might give her hope, and she couldn’t have any of that. Besides, the game was two truths and a lie, not two lies and a truth.

 

“We should have gone over the rules,” she said. “Clearly you don’t think the world of your brother, and you revel in the inequality that puts you on top. That makes two lies, Silvertongue.”

 

Loki beamed at her. “You are only partially right, my dear.”

 

Partially…? Sif rolled her eyes as realization took over. “They’re all three lies.”

 

“I could never see you as my sister,” he said, sounding too satisfied with himself. Sif pursed her lips; she didn’t qualify as a romantic interest, and now she wasn’t good enough to be family. It was stupid to be irritated; she didn’t want to be family. But she wanted him to want her in some manner. 

 

_ He wants you for a friend _ , she reminded herself, and forced herself to be content with it. 

 

“I find you to be an insufferable prat. I wish Thor had been successful at sewing your lips shut when we were children. I despise you.”

 

If only that last one were true.

 

“Ah, now, you are following in my footsteps,” Loki said. “All three of those are true.”

 

How little he knew. 

 

“And for the record, Thor was successful in sewing my lips shut. It just didn’t last long before Mother came to investigate the screaming. Thor’s, of course. My retaliation was brutal.”

 

Now that she hadn’t known. She doubted his retaliation was as bad as he claimed, but Loki wasn’t one to admit to Thor besting him. Losing to his brother was enough of a punishment;  she didn’t need to question his version of history. She also didn’t bother correcting his assumption that she despised him; she would rather he think that than know the depths of her affections. 

 

“Your turn,” she said.

 

“I find Odin to be a marvelous king. I think Frigga is a wonderful queen. I think you would make an excellent queen.”

 

Sif again rolled her eyes at him. “This is quickly becoming a game of say three things and see if the other person can decipher whether or not you followed the rules.”

 

Loki clucked his tongue at her. “I’m deeply offended by your opinion of me, Sif. I followed the format perfectly this time.”

 

She raised her eyebrows disbelievingly. “I’ve known for years you lack adequate respect for the All Father, so that is clearly a lie. But you also have little respect for me, making it doubtful you’d find me satisfactory as a queen. Second lie. You do love your mother, so I’ve no doubt that is true.”

 

Loki sighed dramatically. “Little Sif, how little you understand.” Sif reached her leg over and kicked his ankle; she intensely disliked being called  _ little _ . His self-satisfied grin said he was all too aware. “I think you would make an excellent queen, under the right circumstances.”

 

“Right circumstances. So you mean after I marry Thor, and then he meets with a convenient accident to end his life?”

 

Loki’s gaze turned speculative, and those long fingers came up again to tap his lips. Warmth crawled up her neck, and Sif had to look away. “Now that is a scenario I hadn’t considered,” he said. “Bereft widow, in need of a husband. I could swoop in and fulfill the role, conveniently and legally making me king.”

 

That smarted. Of course he would turn her fictitious personal tragedy into an advantage for himself, with nary a thought to whether or not she would even want him. She did want him, though, and wondered if she would take him in that scenario, knowing full well he didn’t love her? 

 

She found it most uncomfortable when she didn’t immediately answer  _ no _ . 

 

“I’m glad you see me as a vehicle to the throne,” she said dryly. 

 

“Come now, Sif; you know I’d have to prove myself superior to my brother in every way. I’d put in the extra research to be the better lover, so you would benefit greatly from that transfer of power.”

 

Sif nearly choked on her spit, and made a concerted effort to not show any reaction to that comment, nevermind her now racing pulse. She refused to give Loki the satisfaction. 

 

Her impassivity was not the response he was looking for, and a shadow briefly crossed his face before being replaced with another sly smirk. She really wanted to kiss that infuriating expression off his face. “It’s your turn, Sif. Do give me three scenarios regarding your feeling about my future ascension to the throne.”

 

“You don’t get to dictate my truths, Loki. And anyway, those wouldn’t be truths; they’d be speculation.”

 

“So speculate away.”

 

With an annoyed twitch of her head, Sif said, “Fine. One. I would murder you in your sleep rather than let you anywhere near me. Two. I would bear you twelve sons and watch with amusement as you tried not to imitate your father by favoring any of them. Three. I would ruin your kingdom by keeping the king in bed all day.”

 

With that third scenario, Loki momentarily lost his composure, his eyes widening just a fraction before he quickly schooled them into feigned indifference. Sif radiated smugness. 

 

“Two truths,” he mused. “Obviously you would murder me without hesitation; undoubtedly, you’d take great joy in doing it. But your other two scenarios both involve taking me to bed, and I cannot believe you’d do so willingly. So either all three scenarios are a lie, or our dear Lady Sif is entertaining naughty thoughts about a prince of Asgard.”

 

Of course that’s how he would interpret it. Sif didn’t know why she’d expected anything else. She did not answer him, instead staring flatly into his eyes while trying not to notice his dark lashes. 

 

“You did tell three truths last time, which means all three of these could be true. Or perhaps you followed my lead and used two lies and a truth.” He leaned forward and peered into her face, lips curling upward. “Which is it?” Sif shrugged, and Loki leaned back. “You are not nearly as easy to read as my brother. I don’t think he’s ever successfully lied to me.”

 

“Except for when he and Fandral convinced you to follow them into the gardens to see an unusually small bilgesnipe and pushed you down a well instead.”

 

Loki’s sudden scowl was heated and intense. “We do not speak of that incident,” he snapped.

 

“You don’t,” she said carelessly, and smiled as his scowl deepened. 

 

“Then let us speak of how you asked Thor to dance, he thought you were joking, and ended with--”

 

“All right,” Sif said loudly, cutting Loki off. She forgot sometimes that he knew most of her embarrassing moments, just as she knew his. “Have you identified the lie?”

 

It was the murder, of course. She could never end his life. For one thing, she feared Frigga’s wrath nearly as much as she feared Frigga’s grief. For another, if Loki were no more, she’d have to settle for someone like Fandral or Hogun. They made for good friends, but Sif wanted someone with a glint of mischief in his smirk and an intellect she had to work to keep up with. 

 

Casually trailing his hand down his chest, Loki said, “Who wouldn’t want all this? The obvious lie is the murder.” He was jesting, but Sif was still stunned that he’d chosen correctly. When she didn’t respond, Loki switched from arrogance to surprise. “I’m correct?” 

 

“Your turn,” Sif said in lieu of responding. 

 

It took him some time to answer, during which Sif had to compose herself. She should have better prepared herself in case he guessed the correct answer. Now, if he had the brains to read between the lines, he knew too much. And he, unfortunately, had the brains. 

 

Being rejected while sitting in a prison cell was not on her list of approved activities. They would have to spend the remainder of their incarceration in silence, and then she would have to kill Fandral and Volstagg upon her release, then promptly relocate to Midgard or Svartalfheim. Thor would understandably be upset, but given that she would elect to not also murder Loki (see aforementioned lie), he could drown his sorrows in his stupid all-knowing brother. 

 

Next time she was going to engage in a safe and friendly game of Stab Your Fellow Prisoner. No chance for emotional humiliation there. 

 

The longer it took Loki to say anything, the more uncomfortable Sif became. Did it really take this long to say thank you, but I’m not interested? How elaborate a scheme was he concocting just to let her down? Thor, at least, had had the decency to never notice her interest, saving them the awkwardness of rejection whilst maintaining their friendship.  _ Just get it over with _ , she thought in Loki’s direction, wishing for once that he was telepathic. 

 

At length, Loki was ready to speak; he caught her attention with a gentle tapping of his fingers. His face held such a look of intensity that Sif had to catch her breath. He held up one finger. “You are the only person I would allow to murder me, for death by your hand would be glorious,” he said. Sif felt ensnared by his gaze, her breath becoming more shallow as she stared into his eyes. He held up a second finger. “You are the most exquisitely beautiful creature I’ve ever encountered in all the Nine Realms.” The intensity deepened and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. He held up a third finger. “I would never favor one of our sons, for all my time would be engaged in making another brother.”

 

His focus on her was so complete SIf couldn’t even pretend to misinterpret his words. Her heart pounded in her ears:  _ he felt the same _ . She lifted a hand, aiming for his lapel to drag him closer, and he leaned in, eyes never breaking contact. Just as her fingers were about to brush the leather, Sif drew back and said, “You are terrible at this game. It’s  _ two _ truths and a lie, not--”

 

With an irritated growl, Loki darted forward and captured her lips with his. Sinking her fingers into his hair, Sif drew him close and deepened the kiss. 

 

It was everything she’d ever wanted. There was passion, irritation, and faint amusement, but above all a feeling of contentment, like this is where she belonged, kissing Asgard’s prince in a dungeon.

 

The thought broke her concentration, and Sif pulled back to laugh. 

 

“What is it you find so amusing?” Loki asked, eyes glittering. 

 

“We’re in a prison cell,” she said, a closed smile stretching her lips. 

 

“It seems rather appropriate. I’ve always speculated I’d end up here someday.”

 

“A true prophet.”

 

“Though I never predicted your presence, Lady Sif. If anything, I was sure you’d be the one putting me in here.”

 

“More likely the other way around. I’m going to murder you, after all.”

 

“But only after we have twelve sons,” he murmured, capturing her lips once more. 

 

It was another twelve hours before Fandral and Volstagg arrived to free them. They found the pair sitting serenely in the cell, nary a hair mussed nor a drop of blood visible. 

 

“Damn. I was so sure this would work,” Fandral said, lowering the cell wall. “Now I owe Hogun three weeks of night duty.”

 

The second the wall was gone, Sif and Loki leapt up and in one smooth move grabbed Fandral and Volstagg, respectively, pivoted sharply, shoved the would-be matchmakers into the cell, and re-engaged the cell wall. 

 

The two Warriors gaped wide-eyed at the formerly incarcerated pair, both of whom were sporting smirks. 

 

“I told you revenge was satisfying,” Loki said smugly. “How long should we leave them in there?”

 

Sif tapped her chin speculatively. “Long enough for them to fall in love, I think.”

 

Fandral dropped his fish-out-of-water expression in favor of a gloating grin. “It did work! I knew it would! Hogun owes me.”

 

“I think we made a mistake,” Volstagg said, getting to his feet. “I don’t like Loki’s smirk on Sif’s face.”

 

With a backward wave of her fingers, Sif grabbed Loki’s hand and tugged him away from the cell. 

 

A pair of Einherjar rounded the corner just as they did, weapons at the ready. Sif held up a hand to stop them. “Leave my friends in there for a questionable amount of time, and I won’t let Loki loose on you.”

 

Both Einherjar abruptly saluted with a “Yes, m’lady,” and vacated the area, looking somewhat paler than they had upon arriving. 

 

“You would prevent my fun?” Loki said, a hint of a pout on his lips. Sif tugged him forward enough to plant a brief kiss. She could get used to this.

 

“Redirected, rather,” she said. “Turns out Hogun was part of it, and I very much doubt Thor was an innocent bystander.”

 

A wicked grin stole across Loki’s face. “Much more worthy prey,” he murmured. “Come. We have planning to do.” 

 

Sif smiled as Loki led her through the palace, fingers tightly entwined. She’d have to thank her friends someday, but for now, she was going to enjoy watching her mastermind plot, and more than that was going to enjoy trying to distract him.

 

She planned on being very successful.


End file.
